The Clash of Queens and the Lightning Priestess

Eiji crouched beside Riku; his back pressed against the jagged remains of a collapsed corridor wall. The scent of burnt mana clung to the Air—thick, bitter, and metallic. Heat still rose from the scorched floor beneath them, where battle sigils had exploded minutes ago. Somewhere in the distance, thunder cracked—not from the Sky, but from magic colliding.

Eiji exhaled slowly. "This spot feels cursed," he muttered. "Like we're breathing in someone else's death."

Riku gave a dry chuckle, eyes scanning through the gap in the rubble. "That's because we are."

Eiji's eyes narrowed. "Reignar's Queen is on the move… this is our shot."

"You sure you're up for it?" Riku asked without turning. "You're still bleeding."

Eiji flexed his fingers, letting black sparks flicker across his knuckles. "Pain helps me think clearer."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

A pause. Then, despite the tension, Riku grinned. "Fair point."

Their gazes locked. Breath slowed. The silence thickened—not with peace, but anticipation. The kind that weighed on your ribs.

Eiji whispered, "On your signal."

Riku nodded once, lips tightening.

But before they could move—

A gust of wind whispered through the corridor.

And the story shifted.

Elsewhere, petals floated in the Air, curling like blades.

The dance had already begun.

Near The Gymnasium At Kusunogi Highschool Courtyard

The battlefield crackled—an open ceremonial hall distorted by raw magical turbulence. Charred banners fluttered from cracked pillars. Sigils hung mid-air like broken constellations, twitching as though struggling to rewrite the laws of space.

Ayaka Ryuzen stepped forward in silence, her boots echoing softly against a fractured stone.

She inhaled.

And with that breath—her battle form unfolded.

A white haori, short and ceremonial, flared around her as if caught in unseen flames. Crimson sakura blossoms shimmered across the fabric, pulsing with latent seals and divine enchantment. Beneath it, her combat hakama split elegantly at the thighs—traditional but built for speed. The golden threads of her obi caught the light like a shrine bell seen in the fire of war.

She moved like a priestess sculpted for battle. A shrine maiden meant not for prayer—but punishment.

Her hand slid to her waist.

Sheff—

The katana slipped free. Kagutsuchi-no-Hikari, the Blade of Flame and Lightning Storm. Its edge hummed like a drawn breath held between two worlds.

Across the hall, Ruria hovered mid-air—weightless. Her hair curled and danced with petal-shaped sigils that drifted around her like ghostly blossoms. Her posture was graceful, arms loose at her side. But her smile… her smile was wicked.

"Finally," Ruria cooed. "You came alone. How romantic."

Ayaka didn't answer. Her grip tightened.

The clash began without a signal.

Ayaka dashed—blazing glyphs igniting in her wake. Her blade struck down like divine judgment, flame blooming from each swing. Russia answered with a smirk and a pirouette, thorns lashing from her fingertips in a swirling counter.

Flame petal.

Steel sliced past Air.

Magic rippled—chaotic, beautiful, lethal.

Ayaka pivoted mid-strike, a short-range fire sigil blasting outward from her palm. Ruria blurred to the side, her body folding with inhuman elegance, twisting through the explosion like a petal riding a storm.

Then she Vanished into the Air.

Ayaka's eyes widened. "Tch—!"

A whisper.

"Got you~ ❤️"

The voice came from behind.

Ayaka turned—but not fast enough.

A sharpened nail traced her cheek. Delicately. Lovingly.

A thin line of crimson bled down her porcelain skin.

Ruria leaned in close, her breath cool against Ayaka's ear. "You'd look better in red than white. Don't you think?"

Ayaka's eye twitched. Not from pain—but rage.

Her lips tightened. Her jaw clenched.

She didn't speak. She didn't give Ruria the satisfaction.

Instead, she moved.

Boom.

A fireburst erupted between them, blasting the space into flickering flames. Ruria flipped backward mid-air, giggling as scorched petals curled around her like dying stars.

From the smoke, Ayaka emerged again—this time with both hands on her blade, eyes sharp, breath even.

She wasn't just fighting.

She was hunting.

And Ruria?

She was dancing.

A duel not of brute force—but of rhythm. Of control. Of two queens moving on a battlefield shaped by style, precision, and silent grudges.

And neither would yield the tempo.

Not yet.

Ayaka's eyes narrowed, the flame mark on her collarbone pulsing to life. Her breath deepened, slow and deliberate.

Then—

Her aura ignited.

Crimson fire surged around her like a breathing dragon. The Air hissed, bending under the sudden surge of spiritual heat. Even the floating sigils began to distort, pushed back by her presence.

"I wasn't planning to entertain you," she murmured. "But if you want a dance…"

She snapped her fingers.

Crack—!

A flash of storm light split the Sky as a wolf of pure thunder formed beside her. Its fur sparked with unstable lightning, and its breath came out in charged growls. Eyes like storm clouds locked onto Ruria.

The Air shifted again.

This wasn't just fire now.

This was a battlefield claimed.

Ayaka stepped forward, dragging her sword behind her. Sparks scattered.

"You'll have fun with me."

Ruria tilted her head, still floating—but her movements lost some of their flourishes. Her petals tightened defensively around her like a barrier.

"Oh… a thunder beast?" Her voice was softer now, still playful but with an edge. "You devils and your little tricks. I'm flattered."

Then they clashed.

The thunder-wolf roared, leaping with a lightning arc that tore through the Air. Ruria spun, her petals forming a twisting spiral to block—yet the lightning pierced through the center, forcing her to dodge backward.

Ayaka was already there, mid-strike.

Steel met Petal.

Flame met fragrance.

Ruria's arm twisted unnaturally as she deflected the blade—but the edge still touched her shoulder, searing fabric and skin. She hissed—not in pain, but in surprise.

Ayaka didn't wait. She pressed forward like a relentless rhythm, each strike chaining with fire sigils that erupted on contact. The wolf circled from the side, snapping with every missed swing.

For the first time, Ruria faltered.

She landed roughly, breath-catching.

Her smile faltered—just slightly.

Ayaka's expression never changed. Eyes sharp, movements honed like temple rites sharpened by war.

Ruria wiped her mouth and licked a drop of blood from her thumb.

"Good," she whispered. "Pain makes everything more beautiful."

Ayaka flicked her blade once, flames dancing along the steel.

"Then let's turn you into a masterpiece."

Ruria vanished again, but this time, Ayaka was ready—her sigils spread across the battlefield like buried mines. Ruria reappeared mid-flip—and triggered one.

Boom!

A pillar of lightning fire shot up, clipping her leg and sending her tumbling mid-air.

She landed with a wince, ankle skidding. For the first time—truly—the elegance broke.

The battlefield now burned in Ayaka's rhythm. Her lockdown wasn't brute strength.

It was choreography.

Calculated. Devastating and Divine.

Ruria rose slowly, her petals now defensive rather than playful.

She giggled, but there was a tremor in it. "You're not bad, Queen of Falcor."

Ayaka lowered her blade to her side, fire humming around her shoulders like a shrine's holy pyre.

"Dont Get Too Excited Yet"

"I'm not done."

The next step in the dance was hers.

And this time, there'd be no music left—

Lightning Flash

The battle had become savage—no more graceful steps, no more playful taunts—just raw power and burning intent.

Lightning crackled across shattered Ground. Petal sigils fluttered in torn currents of wind. Ayaka and Ruria stood in the center of the chaos, both bleeding, both breathing hard.

And both are smiling.

Ruria's left arm hung limply, scorched and twitching, her once flawless dress torn and streaked with blood. But her eyes still glimmered with wicked glee. "You're... fun," she breathed.

Ayaka stood taller, chin lifted, shoulders squared. Blood ran down her side in rivulets, soaking into the hem of her haori. Her stance was steady, feet planted like sacred pillars.

She didn't smile.

Instead, she pressed two fingers to the glowing sigil near her navel—a seal etched into her very flesh.

"…Release."

The word left her lips like a decree.

A surge of devil energy rippled outward, distorting the Air and shaking the Ground. Runes ignited around her in a spiral, and the flames that once danced around her flared into a roaring inferno.

Her eyes glowed crimson-gold. Her hair rose and flickered like a flame caught in a thunderstorm.

Her wolf familiar let out one last snarl.

Then—CRACK—!

It shattered into lightning and wind, spiraling into the Air and condensing beside her hand. In a flash of divine thunder, it reformed—into a weapon.

A katana wreathed in storm light and sacred fire.

Ayaka gripped the hilt with both hands. The blade hummed as if alive, lightning crackling along its length like a beast eager to be unleashed.

She took her stance—low, precise. A ceremonial form. An executioner's katana.

"You wanted this Fun?" she said, voice quiet but thunderous with promise. "Then I Shall burn down everything you hold sacred."

Ruria didn't blink. Her petals flared defensively. Her tongue clicked once in amusement.

"God, you're beautiful when you're pissed."

They clashed again.

But this time—Ruria was on the back foot.

Ayaka moved like a shrine deity possessed, her every strike laced with divine authority. Her katana didn't slice—it commanded. Lightning cracked with each swing, shattering Ruria's sigils mid-cast. The Air split open with each step.

Ruria tried to dance. She tried to dodge.

But Ayaka was already there—one step ahead every time.

Steel screamed.

Petals were severed.

Ruria hissed as a deep gash tore across her thigh. She staggered, blocking the next strike—but her arm buckled. Her balance shattered. Her elegance frayed.

Ayaka didn't stop.

She spun once—

Then, she brought her blade down.

The slash was silent.

Then—

BOOM.

The terrain cracked—a gash of pure lightning carved through the floor, splitting the Ground in two.

Smoke billowed. The storm howled.

And when the dust cleared—

Ruria lay collapsed in the center of the broken hall. Her petals were scattered like wilted memories. Her body trembled, barely conscious.

Ayaka stood above her, katana still humming, her breath heavy but eyes focused.

Not with hate.

With duty.

"… You're not dead Yet," she muttered. 

The battlefield crackled with dying embers. Smoke curled in the air like whispers of battles past.

Ruria lay sprawled across the scorched stone, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Her petal sigils had faded, fluttering weakly before dissolving into ash.

She looked up at the ceiling—then to the one kneeling beside her.

"Didn't think your lightning sword would hit that hard…" she said, her voice breathless but still carrying a smirk. "Looks like I underestimated the Falcor Queen."

Ayaka dropped to one knee with a cough, her blade stabbing into the Ground for balance. Her shoulders trembled—not from fear, but from sheer exhaustion. "Don't flatter me. I still have a long way to Go."

Ruria Said, "You are Modest, But that Last attack would have Exusted A massive Amount of Mana, Didnt it.?

Ayaka Replied," Don't worry, I Need a Little Rest, And I will be Fine."

Ruria chuckled lightly. "Well… at least we made it fun."

Ayaka exhaled through her nose, half a laugh. "You are annoying."

"But Sorry, I can't Wait That Long."

"Mmhm," Ruria hummed, reaching slowly into her chest, slipping fingers beneath her torn blouse.

Ayaka's eyes sharpened instantly. "What is That?"

"Oh, this?" Ruria said, pulling out a thin, glowing shard from her chest—a crystalline spike pulsing with sickly white energy. "Just a little...Gift From my Lord."

Ayaka's expression turned cold. "That's —"

"Yeah,"

Ayaka's hand reached out instinctively—too late.

The crystal flared—

And the scene cut to black.

Elsewhere—beneath the fractured sky of the mirror dimension—Riku and Eiji emerged from the shadows into The middle of School. The reflective stone shimmered beneath their feet, every surface echoing distorted fragments of themselves.

Near Them, Reignar's Remaining Servents were already regrouping—armor clinking, eyes wary.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Steel met steel—not in action, but in gaze. The unspoken weight of war pulsed between them.

Then—Eiji exhaled. "So this is it."

Riku cracked his knuckles. "No turning back now."

Seraphina and Amane were also on the Move

But before they could Join Them—

BOOM.

A violent crack of energy rippled behind them.

Both turned—shocked.

A massive barrier of searing gold flared up behind Seraphina and Amane as they entered the plaza from the far end. The light reflected in Seraphina's silver hair like a burst of dawn through battlefield haze.

And standing between them and the exit—

Reignar Ignidrath.

Flawless. Smirking. Arms out as if welcoming old friends to a dinner party soaked in blood.

"Oh dear," he said with a mock pout, voice laced with venomous charm. "Were you missing me that much to come running towards me? I'm touched."

Seraphina didn't slow. Her steps were cold and measured. "Yes, I was missing you so I could tear That Arrogant smirk off Your Face."

Reignar tilted his head. "Oh, my, How Aggressive you are, my darling."

As Both Sides were About to Start Brawling

Then—

DING.

A chime echoed through the world like a hammer to the heart.

❖ System Announcement ❖

Falcor Peerage Queen Ayaka Ryuzen has been retired.

The words burned across the sky.

Eiji stopped. His blood froze.

"…No."

Seraphina's breath hitched. Amane's hand went to her mouth.

The mirrored world fell silent.

Riku clenched his fists. "Ayaka…?"

Eiji's eyes shook. "She said… she'd hold her off…"

Seraphina's grip on her wand trembled—but her voice remained level. "She did. Long enough."

The system's announcement lingered like a funeral bell.

To be continued.